


Try To Stay In Line

by slightlyjillian



Series: By Your Side [9]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-12
Updated: 2010-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 04:50:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/pseuds/slightlyjillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-GW. Nichol learned to follow rules at a young age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try To Stay In Line

**Author's Note:**

> -also serves as back-story for the Nichol in the series _By My Side_ universe

In the family, certain behaviors were expected of the children. Rules were not suggestions or guideposts, they were hard and fast. Any adult could enforce a rule, established or new. But over them all, children and adults alike, was the patriarch, Boris Kozlov.

Anton only went to the farm once or twice a year when the weather was agreeable and their vehicle could get through the country roads. Too much snow or wet or mud, and they went back to their apartment in the city. He always suffered the greatest disappointment if they turned around, because even if he wasn't blood related to the man who lived on the Kozlov property Anton enjoyed him far more than he'd ever care for his step-father. The time spent on the farm was almost like living one of the adventures in the fairy tales his mother used to tell him.

One day on the farm was warm and the sun was shining. Anton ran across the field to the trees with his cousins, another boy named Iosef and his sister, Alena. They were Kozlovs too.

"Take this." Iosef put a stolen cookie into each of their hands. The crumbs even tasted good. The door to the kitchen was open, the oven was hot, and their grandmother had been reclining in a wooden chair with her feet propped up to reduce the swelling.

Eventually, they walked back toward the house. Boris Kozlov had built it when he was a newlywed. Then later had added rooms when they'd added to their family. Three boys and three girls.

"You still brought him?" Boris had said to Anton's step-father when they arrived.

"He's her son."

Anton's mother had always been shy around her husband's family, although Boris had made her laugh. Sometimes the grandfather would grab his guitar and the grandmother pulled out the fiddle. But Anton's mother would only sing if Boris told her too. Then the music would swell and the fireplace would be lit in the evening and everything smelled like Christmas.

"Why do we go if they aren't family?" Anton had asked his mother. "Why do what they say?"

"They are your family, my lad." His mother had always sounded like she should be singing. "Sometimes the people you love aren't the ones that you're related to."

Anton's mother wasn't there anymore. She had died the summer before.

A few yards from the house, one of the uncles shouted. "Come here."

Alena still had chocolate on her lips. Iosef refused to admit his crime. But Anton dissolved completely into a fit of tears under the dark-thundercloud expression of disappointment. He should have known better.

The uncle said, "Follow the rules, children."

They were put to bed without dinner that night. No music played in the living room and Anton stared into the shadows for hours before falling asleep.

The next day was as beautiful as the first. The children were pushed outside to entertain themselves while the adults conversed in the stillness of the house.

Iosef became distracted and shouted at Alena and Anton to leave him alone. Anton made a crown of flowers for Alena who practiced walking while balancing it on her head. The front yard had two towering trees between which she marched proudly. Anton noticed Boris sat under a smaller tree between the giant, green guardians and the house he had built. The older man rested his back against the tree and had been watching the children. Or perhaps he had been watching, because as Anton cautiously walked closer, he saw Boris had his eyes closed.

"Come here, boy," the older man said. His eyelashes never left his grizzled cheeks, but Anton had no doubts that Boris knew which of his grandchildren was nearby.

"Yes, sir?" Anton stopped within arm's length of his grandfather. Soon a firm grip had hold of the boy's wrist.

"Are you having a good time?" Boris asked.

"Yes, sir." Anton replied quietly.

"Good. Go fetch my cigarettes."

Anton found his wrist free again. He glanced at the house, then back at his grandfather. Inside his stomach another battle twisted. He needed to obey, _except_...

"What is it? Why are you still here?" Boris opened his eyes then, and leaned forward. Anton was afraid the larger man might lunge forward. Beating Anton. He knew how fists could feel when they landed their blows. The wound near his temple throbbed a sore reminder. The boy flinched back, but only a half-step. Boris repeated, "What is it?"

"Mother said smoking isn't good. Brings an early death," Anton blurted, half of his words nearly unintelligible. His shirt stuck to the sweat on his skin and Anton braced himself for punishment.

It never came.

Anton's eyes were full of tears, so he hardly saw Boris motion with his hand. Soon Iosef stood next to Anton. The other boy briefly glanced at Anton with his red, tear-stained face then said, "Yes, papa?"

"Go fetch my cigarettes."

"Yes, papa." Iosef ran to the house immediately.

Boris shifted then, but did not stand. He took a long deep breath, then let his eyes close again.

Anton stared. He didn't know what had just happened. He waited to be scolded for disobedience. He waited to be punished for not getting the cigarettes. He waited to be dismissed.

"Are you still there, Anton Nichol?" Boris muttered, gruffly but not without affection. "Run along."

Anton ran. He might have had wings on his feet. His hands hastily wiped away his tears. Then he fell at the trunk of the twisted apple tree and roll onto his back to look at the blue sky. Something had saved him. For some reason, his defiance had been met with mercy. Had he been forgiven? How had he escaped?

A curious feeling lingered and felt as warm as the sunshine on his skin.


End file.
